25

We enter Four in the cover of night, but it doesn't matter since I see Capitol photographers from my window. No one comes to my room and I don't leave. Just let me travel the trains. Forever. Maybe if it goes far enough it will backtrack into months ago. Months ago I was happy. Months ago I was alive. Months ago I was…free.

I shouldn't have screamed. I should've been careful with my words. I was supposed to die. Why didn't I die? Why let me live? I may be distraught, but my mind seems to be working at this point. Why let the arena flood and let me win? I would be the obvious winner wouldn't I? Of course the girl from Four knows how to swim. It would be a cardinal sin not to know.

The door opens and someone walks in my room. It takes an effort to lift my head, so I don't. They lift me up in their arms, and I realize it's Odair. I'm too weak from the poison—most likely, morphling—to even attempt to struggle in his grasp. But I guess this is a good photo-op as any. The poor, mad, pathetically sad girl back in District Four. She needs to be carried.

"Close your eyes Anneliese," he says. I want to question why he's calling me by my full name but I don't. I shut my eyes without complaint.

Odair did me a favor, I realize. The Capitol leeches can't ask me questions if I'm sleeping. He doesn't even complain or sound winded that he's carrying me. Odair almost feels at ease as he's moving me through the crowd and brushing off the impertinent questions.

"How is she Finnick?"

"So sweet. He's carrying her."

"Can you comment on your first mentee victor and her tragic tale?"

I block them out and it seems as if their voices die away. Or I die away. Either seems to fit, but I know it's not me. If I died, I wouldn't feel this aching pain in my chest. I wouldn't feel the thumping of my heart or the blood rushing in my ears.

The slam of a screen door alerts me to us no longer being anywhere I know of. My house doesn't have a screen door. It broke off its hinges two winters ago and Dad never put it back on. He hadn't found the time for it I guess.

"Put me down," I tell Odair. I'm wary about what he's doing, but he doesn't put me down and continues up some stairs. He's not looking at me. "This isn't my house," I say.

"I know," he agrees. He opens another door and plops me on a bed. "It's mine."

My eyes widen. I open my mouth and close it several times trying to figure out what to say. Odair sits next to me, and I finally come to my conclusion. "My house burned too." I look up to see him nod in agreement. Our house is—was—next door to the tavern. All our things. Dad's cameras and pictures and film.

"All of it?" I ask. I'm hoping not. I don't care about the house. I want those pictures of my mother. The ones Dad took every day to say he loved her.

"I don't think so, no."

I nod. "And Lucy?" I gulp. "Where's she?"

Odair scratches the back of his head then says, "She's with my sister Mollie. Lucy's friends with my nephew Nate." I nod. I remember. Lucy goes to school with Nate Logan. "She was at a play date with him when it happened." Again I nod. That sounds like Lucy.

"And Mary? Is she…" I don't want to say dead too.

"She passed while you were sleeping."

I bite my lip. At least she's not in pain. "I have to tell Lucy." She needs to know that I'm the one taking care of her now. I look up at Odair. His hair looks a mess. Like he ran his hands through it several times or yanked on it.

"Mollie gave her and Nate some sleep syrup. It should last until the funeral tomorrow afternoon."

"They saw didn't they?" I ask, but I know it's true. The Logan's live in town. Oliver Logan sells tackle, bait, and nets in his store. Everything in town is nearby. Including the houses. If your house isn't attached to your store, it's within spitting distance. But, I do see Odair sigh and give me a slight nod.

Wait, house…houses. I get my own house now. Why the hell am I in Odair's? "Which one is mine?"

"Huh?"

"Which house?"

"It's next door." I tense up a bit. I knew we would be neighbors but I didn't think we'd be this close to each other.

"Then why am I not there?"

"Because you don't need to be alone right now," Odair says simply. But I think I do. I would really like to be alone. My thoughts are pounding in my head telling me this and that it's getting quite ridiculous.

He gets up and goes to a dresser and proceeds to pull out a few things. It's mechanical like he's rehearsing for something. As if he's never even opened the dresser and he doesn't know what actually belongs in there.

A grey long sleeved shirt and red and blue striped socks are laid next to me on the bed as I hear him enter the bathroom. Well, that was thoughtful. I unzip the leather jacket and lay it on a nearby chair along with my dress and shoes. I take the few pins that are still left in my hair and place them in a pocket along with my bracelet and preserver. I sit back on the bed to put on the sock. They're soft to the touch. I lean back up and unhook the clasp from my bra and I hear a sharp intake of breath. I didn't hear the bathroom door open. I let the bra fall to the floor and as methodically as possible put on the shirt over my head. The length hits my mid-thigh.

When I turn back around, Odair seems to be frozen in place. He doesn't say anything but gestures towards the bathroom just the same. He still doesn't move as I go past him inside. I don't understand what's wrong. He's seen plenty of women naked. What makes me so different? I wash my face and brush my teeth with a new toothbrush he has laid out for me. But what horrifies me is my reflection. I look hollow. There are deep circles under my eyes that won't go away and I'm paler than I've ever been in my life.

You'll survive.

I sigh and open the door and see Odair is now sitting on the edge of the bed. The very edge. And before I can take three steps out of the bathroom he says, "I'll let you sleep. I'll just be—"

Something makes me stop him. Something causes me to speak and I don't know what.

"Will you stay?"

He finally looks up at me, questioning why I would as such a thing. This is obviously his room, and he's giving it up for me because my family died and he has a caring bone in his body.

"Will you stay?" I repeat.

"Yeah," he says.

I climb under the covers, and Odair shuts off the light and does the same. But we're still bathed in the moon's glow. We're under Luna's care. Her protection. We are face to face and he's staring at me intently. Probably hoping I'll shut my eyes soon. I don't know really. But something causes me to lean closer to him and kiss his cheek.

"Thank you Finnick," I tell him. It's the best I can do. I won't apologize for the awful things I've told him, but he's helping me now by staying. He'll chase away my nightmares. I turn away from him, but I can't get comfortable, so I pull his arm across me. He doesn't complain. His hand flexes across my belly and entwines with my fingers. I feel him kiss my hair before he settles into the sheets. Then and only then it feels as if I can relax. It's as if I could fall off the edge of a cliff and nothing would matter at this moment because Finnick Odair is holding me in his arms as if I were a child. Someone that needed tending too. Someone that needed mending. Someone that…